Doctor Who - The New Doctor: Part 1 (M)
by EchidnaBoy
Summary: This takes place between the 11 and 12 regenerations. This is my view of how I believe the Doctor would be at this stage. I do not endorse violent or antisocial behavior, if you feel you relate to anything I've written in the following, I encourage you to seek psychological assistance. The following is rated M for Adult Themes and Graphic Violence.


Forward:

This story is quite graphic and has quite a lot of adult themes. If you're not interested or unable to cope with reading of such situations, I suggest you stop reading.

Doctor Who is becoming a little too Kiddy Friendly (tm) in my opinion now, so I tried to write this seeing what the other side of the spectrum would be like. Instead of a friendly, cheery Doctor who makes up words and is a magician who replaces "Magic" with "Science you wouldn't understand." I tried to write this as I honestly feel the Doctor would be, were he real. He's been through a lot. I'm surprised he doesn't suffer from his own mind a lot more than the show makes him out to.

Writing the Doctor this way isn't a slander or glorification of violence or abuse, it really is just how I imagine the Doctor would exist.

* * *

Part 1:

The Doctor fell to his hands and knees, his throat passing up chunky liquid that splattered to the ground with specks landing on his wrists. The cold metal panel which served as a make-shift floor dug into his palms, a surface not designed for him to have the full force of his weight held up by the soft skin of his hands and knees.

The sounds... so many sounds... and yet, unable to make out any of them.

"D-r!" a warped voice shouted. His ears adjusting to the sounds around him.

Tears began to collect on the front of his eyes as he stayed looking down at the floor on his hands and knees while felt his throat begin to tighten again. A hand pressed onto his shoulder and from then on, his body seemed to move on its own. He stood up and pushed the stranger away in one fluid motion. Flashes of a woman screaming and crying appeared through his eyes but they were a mere afterthought in his head. Everything was an afterthought. Was there anything there anymore? Was anything the main focus?

The woman kept screaming his name, her voice becoming clearer and clearer. Her sounds sounding less like calling and more like begging.

His fingers wrapped around a metal pipe, rusted and cold, he lifted it and grit his teeth. This woman was here. She was *here*. Around *him*. He was angry. So angry. His nostrils flared as he began to scream back. Not a name. Not a word. Angry, flared grunts. Primal and demanding. The only thing he felt was the blood behind his eyeballs and the metal bar in his hand. He lifted the bar up and swung hard at the woman. Full contact with her shoulder. He felt it in his hand. She shrieked out in response, between begs and sobs.

"D-c-r!" the woman begged, edging backwards and holding her arms towards him.

His eyes saw red, his muscles became aware of the danger of the situation and flew to full function. His throat pushed out another monstrosity of a sound before swinging again. The woman moved back and his hit was unsuccessful, so he swung again. His next swing came immediately after and made contact with her cheek, grazing the skin bringing blood down her face.

She cried out again.

"Do-t-r PLE-S-!" her voice formed. His ears still unable to grasp the sounds around occurring at that point in time.

He stepped forward and swung again, hitting her hand which was stretched out towards him. She fell to her knees, grabbing the console on her way down, stopping her from falling down entirely.

He raised his hands yet again with the steel bar digging into his skin and begin to strike downwards upon her head.

*Her arms were out.*

The bar changed direction mid-fall and smacked into the vertical shaft, breaking it upon impact. Some landing on the console below it, others flying off beyond view.

Her arms were out.

The Doctor grit his teeth while his lips twitched and his eyes fell into focus on the girl he found himself standing over. Her body was frail and pitiful, no challenge for the mind at all that he was able to do this. He noticed her face and eyes had been diverted from him, now being pointed at the ground. Her gasps and shivering becoming something to take in now too. His mind still hazy, he lifted her up by the neck and pulled her against the rail.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" he yelled. The first time he'd yelled with actual words.

"I... I ca.." she gagged, his large hands clenched on her neck, digging into the skin and turning her head a shade of red.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" he screamed directly into her face, bringing the metal rod down onto the rail causing a loud clang.

"*Ack*...*Ack*..." the woman gagged, her eyes panicked and pleading with fear, tears pooling around her sockets while the blood from her cheek trickled over, down and off The Doctor's thumb.

"*WHO ARE YOU*!?" The Doctor screamed again, his voice faultering at his final attempt while bringing the bar down onto the rail again and again and again, as if to compensate for his lack of thinking.

Composure was a must for The Doctor. Dropping the bar, he leant deep into her face, using his other, now free hand onto her jaw and opened his mouth to bring his teeth into her neck...

"...Who... the fuck... are... you..." he whispered into her ear.

He pulled back and loosened his grip on her neck. Her body was thankful for the air and she gasped as if it were her last. His foot stepped onto hers, stopping her from moving.

"I'm Cla..." she paused before he dug his foot deeper into hers. "I'm Clara!" She yelped.

"Hmmmmm..." he purred... he had known other people before... could this be one of them? Of course they fucking could but he didn't care, she shouldn't have been around him now.

"Fine." he grunted and turned away from her. The sound Clara collapsing on the metal grate behind him was a sign that his ears were functioning properly again. Wiping the blood from his hands, he began to survey the area around him. He was clearly still inside the TARDIS, and he was still the biggest danger around him so, that was to his advantage. Walking to one of the many screens, he swept away some broken glass and made out the readings before his eyes. They were still in deep space. No area around them. Nothing around them of any sentience for quite a few lightyears away anyway. They were entirely and utterly... alone.

He turned back to Clara, now lifting herself up and edging away from him. He just stared at her as if she was the biggest inconvenience on his mind. He tighened his jaw and went back to staring at the console.

Clara ran quickly down the steps to the lower levels of the TARDIS control room. She knelt in a ball against a wall and began to sob to herself. She sobbed because she was in shock, because she was in so much pain, because she was alone, because she was hurt, and not just physically... but by the one person she felt safe being around.

It was a while before anything else happened. The Doctor stood at the console, occasionally sweeping any shards of glass off and Clara stayed in the lower level having no idea what to do, what to say or where to move. She pressed into the wound on her cheek to do something about the bleeding but she could think of nothing without any supplies.

Without taking his eyes away, The Doctor opened a draw from the underside of the console and pulled out a small first aid box. He dropped it to the floor and kicked it to Clara. She began applying an antiseptic balm to her skin and winced at the pain. Something sparkled in the corner of her eye. A large shard of glass from when the centre column was smashed. She reached out to it, her fingers wrapping around it and binding it tightly with a bandage as silently as she could, careful not to hurt herself as she disclosed it in her jacket. The Doctor was unaware as to what she had prepared. Deciding to go back and pay attention on her cheek, she dabbed the wound with the balm.

"Ow..." she said.

The Doctor was unphased by her comment.

"Do you have anything else?" she asked, her words not only longing for less-painful medical supplies, but also for a hint of The Doctor she once knew and felt for.

"We are in deep space with no access to the TARDIS's co-ordination cache logs, I don't care... besides, you're what, 27 years old? You should be used to that by now."

Clara looked down. She held her breath and closed her eyes while bringing her knees to her head. There would be a time to talk about this. She knew this wouldn't be the time. She knew she wasn't safe, but she did know she had a goal; to get home.

"What?" Clara's eyes widened. She understood some of those words. "Cache co-ordination?"

The Doctor pondered. His hands began to jitter over the keyboard for a few seconds as he chewed his bottom lip multiple times. He closed his eyes and leaned on the console by his knuckles.

"The TARDIS needs co-ordinates to travel through time and space. During my regeneration, the TARDIS suffered some damage, the component in the console responsible for caching these co-ordinates being among it." The Doctor said.

"So we're stuck here?" Clara asked, a lack of hope emerging in her voice.

"Well... no... we can still travel... I just need to manually enter the co-ordinates previously stored in the system. It's going to take me a while." he said. Even though Clara felt they weren't in any real danger, she still felt unease towards The Doctor.

"You're sad." Clara stated, hoping this would arouse any sort of response. Hoping this would bring back, or cause this stranger to The Doctor she knew.

The Doctor paused. There were so many things he could say in response. Should he treat her statement seriously? Humorously? A mix? He chose to do what felt most natural, and ended up deciding to say nothing at all. She was right though. He was sad. He could feel it. He felt his hearts pump a little less than they used to. Chances where he felt there should be mood-raising things to say simply ceased to exist.

"Does this mean we'll never get back to earth?" Clara asked.

"No, Earth still existed... I just need to find where it was and when so the TARDIS can figure out the rest, and you can go back home."

The Doctor was met with silence. Regardless of why, he still needed to be alone. He attacked someone who was a friend. Someone he cared deeply about. With all his force... was this how he treated people now? Or was this just her? The regeneration cycle isn't usually this dangerous to himself or anybody around him, but he knew it was always a possibility...

He turned and walked to the library. For the first time, Clara was alone. Clara let out a gasp of relief, as if it were the last breath she'd taken the last 10 minutes. Her body went limp and a tear fell down her cheek. He'd changed so quickly. Despite being made aware of the process, she was never told this would be a possibility, that whenever he died he came back as a new person.

"Why are you like this, Doctor?" she whispered to herself. The way he pushed her around, the way he relentlessly slammed a weapon at her. The look in his eyes...

The Doctor returned with a book and walked straight to the console where he'd been standing before he left and began punching in numbers.

Clara slowly stood up and turned towards The Doctor.

"Doctor..."

"Yeah, what." he responded, still looking at the screen. One at a time. His finger slamming down on each button... lifting his hand up and letting gravity push his finger onto each button.

*5.. 2... 9... 0...*

Was it him or was his perception of reality slowing down? His breathing became deeper and his eyes opened and closed slower than usual... why am I doing this? ... why is this my problem?

"Doctor..." she whispered again, a tear falling down her cheek.

"Mmmmmmhmmmmm...?" he said, slowly turning towards the source of her voice.

"I'm so sorry..." were the last words he heard before feeling something enter his neck.

His eyes hazed over and his surroundings, which began swirling around him. The hole in his neck forcing him to cough and vomit blood like a dying fish as he collapsed to the floor.

As if in response, the TARDIS engines began to roar into action. The aching wheeze near bursting their ear drums. They were flung around by the TARDIS as the walls, floor and ceiling seeminly losing all sense of gravity. Clara let go of The Doctor and uncertain if he was still conscious, her fingers spread out to desperately wrap around something, anything. The Doctor could hear and see everything that was going on, however time for him was still slowing down, his vision growing darker and his reflexes becoming near useless. He let out all his breath and took in the scene around him.

* * *

When The Doctor woke up, he saw Clara sitting near over him. The first thing he saw was her eyes widen and then a howling scream escaping her lips. He reached out to her to pull himself from under some equipment which had pinned him down in the rough landing, but she turned away and ran out the door.

"Clara..." he whispered while spitting out yet more blood, "No... It's not safe..."

To Be Continued...


End file.
